The First Wife

Chapter 10

She woke in the royal bed to find herself tangled up with the general. Alone. The king and queen had left them. She gave herself a few moments to listen to his heartbeat, to feel it under her palm, and breathed in his scent one last time before raising her head cautiously from his chest. He was awake, watching her.

"How do you feel?"

She chose to focus on her physical state rather than how she felt. Which was raw and vulnerable.

"I'm not sore but... tender. I feel your presence inside me still." She looked away, embarrassed. Fucking him was easier than talking about it. "It's difficult to describe."

He nodded. "I know. I always feel the ghost of his cock afterward. Hot, like a slight burn. Kind of a loose and open sensation." He gave her another of his inscrutable looks. "You took us all so well. And seemed completely natural. It was... impressive."

At once, she flared up at him, incensed. "I wasn't playing the concubine, performing, if that's what you think!" She crawled out of bed muttering under her breath, "Why did they have to leave me here with you!"

His expression flickered. Making a grab for her wrist before she could get away, he brought her to a sharp halt, dragging her back to him step by step. 

"I apologize. That was... tactless, and not at all what I meant to say. Forgive me. Again." His jaw tightened. "Don't go."

Feeling his grip ease, she glanced down at his hand wrapped loosely around her wrist, allowing her to free herself if she wished, and met his watchful eyes with more confidence than she felt. 

"What did you mean to say, My Lord?"

He was silent for a long moment, choosing his words with care this time. "That it was an honor and a privilege, an absolute delight, to toil in your service. You were our Venus tonight."

Flustered by his uncharacteristically charming compliment, she gave way, letting down her guard. Wisely or not, she decided to enjoy him as long as he'd allow. To pretend a little longer until he dismissed her.

"It was a delight for me as well... Adonis," she teased with a cautious smile.

He grinned, that sweet dimple appearing again. She cupped his face, rubbing it with her thumb.

"You should smile more," she murmured. "Although no one could possibly be intimidated by such a pretty general."

His laugh was like distant thunder, a low rumble in his chest. Proud of herself for causing it, she flushed with pleasure. Still grinning, he picked her up with a rather dramatic gesture, making her bury her face in his shoulder with an undignified squeak. 

"Care to bathe, My Lady? Or would you prefer to eat first?"

At his words, she was suddenly ravenous. But she also felt extremely unkempt, her hair coming loose from her braided crown, sure that the thick line of kohl around her eyes must be smudged all over her face.

"Both," she demanded with an impish smile.

The general laughed again. "Both it shall be."

They soaked for hours in the royal bathing pool and devoured the royal meal. He offered her savory and sweet tidbits decorated with flakes of silver and gold one by one followed by sips of wine. She was uncomfortable at first, knowing she should be the one serving him. But he ignored her feeble protests until she gave up, submitting gracefully to his outrageous pampering.

The general washed the smears of kohl from her face and the sticky residue of cum, slick, and sweat from her skin. His light touch, gentle and considerate. His scorching eyes burning into her.

He took down her hair with care, washing it thoroughly, even though he grumbled under his breath when it tangled in silky knots around his fingers. It made her wonder if the queen kept her hair short for his benefit, curious again about the true nature of their relationship. The three of them.

After drying her with lingering caresses, he rubbed soothing salves and fragrant oils on her sex bruised skin and carried her back to bed, boneless and absolutely content. Only because her mind had been turned to mush by his attentions, did she sleepily ask the question she most wanted to be answered. Even though she had no right to ask it.

"How long have they played with you?"

The general remained silent for so long she feared she'd angered him again. But to her surprise, he let her in.

"When I was still a callow youth, I fell in love with a royal prince and he loved me. Many happy years later he became king and married, because of course, he must. I wasn't worried I'd lose him. But, I did."

He gazed fixedly at the golden canopy enclosing the bed, shining dimly with faint glimmers of moonlight, his voice oddly flat.

"It was a painful time for both of us. He was torn, wracked with guilt. I was jealous and hurt, even though I told myself I shouldn't be. He couldn't help loving her. Her perilous combination of wit, beauty, and vulnerability. She needed him. That's a powerful lure for a man like him."

"For you as well, I think," she murmured, wishing she could shut her ears or run away. Every word he spoke hurt. But she knew she must hear it.

The general gave a hollow laugh. "She seduced me without meaning to. I'd like to say I tried to resist her or resented her for it, but..."

"She's irresistible."

He smiled in acknowledgment. "When she called out to me, I didn't hesitate. I didn't care about the consequences. It was as easy as breathing."

The general turned his head to look at the contour of her face in the darkness.

"Before I realized what was happening to me, I already loved her." He looked back up at the gossamer canopy. "It could have been a God-awful mess, but she actually cared about us, and together we found the only possible solution."

He shrugged, yawning. Taking her hand in his, their fingers laced together, lying side by side in the heavy quiet of the night, she felt a sudden shock at the intimacy of it. Their naked bodies just touching at shoulder, hip and foot. His warmth seeping into her.

"I am married to them, but they are married to each other," he said, his voice trailing off into sleep.

Cautiously she nestled closer and thought about what he'd told her. A loving marriage of three, but somehow unbalanced. She sensed he was trying to tell her something important, yet she couldn't grasp it. The comfort of acceptance and protection, the illusion of equality she felt with him, with them all, was fading away.

"They don't care about me, I'm nothing but a plaything," she whispered into the dark.

Startling her by turning on his side to face her, he said gently, "You are my lover now. And theirs too. You are not a plaything to us."

She hadn't expect him to hear her, she just needed to say it, to be reminded. She was ashamed by the bitter note in her voice, though. That she could ever resent them for being who and what they were. Or regret what they'd given her. If only for one night.

Cupping her face, he brushed the single tear from her cheek, the only one that escaped her iron will.

"Ask for what you want, Myrte."

Her breath caught at hearing him speak her name. That he knew her true name. It made her feel somewhat less insignificant. She took a deep breath.

"I want my freedom."

His hand fell away, and he didn't speak for a long moment, perhaps displeased by her choice.

"I'll see it done," he said finally.

He pulled her into the curve of his body. Convincing herself she imagined the trace of desperation she felt in his tight embrace.